


And Eat It, Too

by Xparrot



Category: One Piece
Genre: Birthday, Chocolate, M/M, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-13
Updated: 2004-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-13 12:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/137527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xparrot/pseuds/Xparrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was hardly his fault; it wasn't like the damn cook had labeled the cake, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Eat It, Too

**Author's Note:**

> Belated Zoro birthday fic.

It was hardly his fault. It wasn't like the damn cook had labeled the cake, after all, and how was he supposed to know it was Robin's half-birthday, or Nami's anniversary, or whatever it was. And he had needed the sugar, after the night before. And being Sanji's creation, the chocolate was sweetened just enough and no more, and the layers risen to just the perfect moist richness, so he had taken another piece or two without thinking. But still, there was almost half a cake left. The cook had no reason to throw a fit like that.

And okay, he probably shouldn't have said, "Well, you could've made one for me," because really, he didn't care, and there was no reason to mention there had been occasion for it the day before yesterday.

But not knowing about that, the cook had taken it entirely wrong. "Oh, is that what you're expecting now, _Zoro-san_ ," and how the hell does one make one's eye into a heart on command? But he hadn't gotten a chance to ask, because Sanji had blinked it away like that and snapped, "A couple fast fucks and I'm your servant?"

"Don't you mean a couple hundred?" Which perhaps had been a mistake as well. Especially since he _really didn't_ want Sanji doing that damn swooning around him anyway; it was annoying enough with the girls, but at least he could sleep through it then. Truth be told, of late he appreciated the distraction. A couple hundred hadn't been an exaggeration, and it hadn't even been six months, for pity's sake.

Not to say that was a bad thing. It was aerobic exercise, definitely; they always ended up more soaked in sweat and breathless than when they had just been fighting. And he enjoyed it, and the cook sure as hell seemed to enjoy it, and Nami and Robin did as well, judging by how often they quite inadvertently wandered into the kitchen at one or two o'clock in the morning.

But knowing all manner of ways inside Sanji's body was quite a different thing from knowing the inside of the guy's pointy head. So while he had been ready for the cook's kick—which, even blocked, sent him flying out of the kitchen on his ass—he hadn't been as prepared for Sanji snarling, "Fine, if you've had enough, then you won't want any more."

"Cake?"

"No," Sanji said, and slammed the galley door.

The rest of the day was remarkably peaceful. Zoro exercised on the quarterdeck and napped against the main mast, all blissfully undisturbed, except by Luffy getting kicked into him occasionally. Come evening he crowded into the galley with the others, and dinner went like always, except that Sanji ignored him more than usual, and might have been paying extra attention to the women, though with him that was difficult to tell.

Also, when Sanji was collecting their dessert plates (he'd salvaged the cake with artistic cutting and more icing), he shoved past so close that his hand brushed Zoro's—well, that must have been an accident. It was only a second of contact, and the rejection had been pretty clear before. The heat of the cook's arm pressed a moment against his chest, that lingered a little longer, but Zoro shook his head and forgot about it, as he headed up to the crow's nest to take the night's first watch.

It was a cold night, even under a blanket, no way to keep his hands warm but to blow on them and chafe them together. On the other hand the wind gusting over the sea was crisp and clear and didn't stink at all of tobacco.

Usopp took over watch at midnight. After climbing down from the mast, Zoro stopped by the galley for a nip of something warm before retiring—maybe for even a full night's worth of sleep. There was no lantern, but he moved easily through the darkness, six steps around the table and then five to the icebox, and who said he got lost? Only in unfamiliar places. By now he knew the kitchen almost as well as the damn—

It wasn't that the tall, lean, warm shape he walked headlong into wasn't often there, but it was at least as likely to have been elsewhere, so he had no warning to avoid it. He stumbled, and then Sanji had twined one arm around his waist and the other curved over his neck.

Slightly confused by the circumstances, Zoro asked the first thing which came to mind. "Isn't it difficult to cook in the dark?"

"I just finished." Sanji's—his—it was too low to be a speaking voice, too deep to be a whisper. His long fingers played with Zoro's earrings, a delicate distracting chime in the dark—"Here," he said, and put something to Zoro's mouth.

The sliver of chocolate was bittersweet, melting so smooth over his tongue that it was liquid in an instant and then gone, like ice evaporating on hot metal. With Sanji leaning so close, the cook couldn't miss his noiseless sigh, and Zoro could practically hear one curly eyebrow raise in the dark. "Didn't know you liked chocolate this much."

"Neither did I," Zoro admitted.

"Nami-san told me the day before yesterday was your birthday." Sanji said, in such a way that Zoro wasn't sure what the cook meant beyond the basic fact of it. He couldn't answer anyway, because Sanji had slipped another piece of chocolate into his mouth, pushing it past Zoro's lips with his tongue.

He wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight, Zoro realized. Or likely much sword practice tomorrow. "Didn't you say," he remarked, once he had swallowed, "just this morning, that—"

"Forget it."

Today had been relaxing, but a swordsman couldn't spend all his time resting. Besides, Zoro thought with a slight smile that couldn't be seen, it wasn't like it was that difficult to piss off the cook. If he did want the free time. "No, really," he persisted, sliding his cold hand under the silk shirt and then down, feeling the slight tremble at his touch. "If you're that mad at me, you don't—"

Sanji growled like a cat purrs, a vibration all through his lean body. "Asshole," was the only word Zoro could make out, but he couldn't tell if it was an expletive or a suggestion, and no other words followed, just breath and heat and more chocolate.

Maybe in a couple weeks.

For now, at least, Zoro could use the exercise.


End file.
